


Amar pelos dois

by hanaemi



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, Nyotalia - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Gender or Sex Swap, Nyotalia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 14:51:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10946784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanaemi/pseuds/hanaemi
Summary: From text:"Her brother would have surely scolded her, telling her she was just wasting money for  a good-for-nothing and she was just pretending she got over him but actually she was still deeply in love, because in the end she always came back to him. But no, Aartiënne had a different opinion: she was a strong independent woman and she had joined him to try and politely talk era, nothing more. And if the situation had taken a different  turn she would have taken her bag and left"





	Amar pelos dois

# Amar pelos dois

_**{ Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia** _  
_**Characters: nyo!Netherlands (Aartiënne), Portugal (Álvaro)** _  
__**Words: 1390**  
Pairing: PortNed  
Playing: Salvador Sobral - "Amar pelos dois"-- >   __ **<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qotooj7ODCM> (I suggest you to listen to it while reading!) }**

 

**“Thanks, keep the change”** Aartiënne said, getting off the taxi and closing the door behind her back.Lisbon. The blonde woman inhaled the air of the night, half-closed eyes, and let a deep sigh out, trying to psychologically prepare herself to face Álvaro, even though she was well aware she would never be ready to face him. She had accepted to see him again a bit because of pity, a bit because he had wore her out, and maybe a bit because of nostalgia too, she couldn’t say it. What she could certainly say was that she was there, she had had a long trip from The Hague and neither she could (nor she wanted) to go back even before trying. Her brother would have surely scolded her, telling her she was just wasting money for  a good-for-nothing and she was just pretending she got over him but actually she was still deeply in love, because in the end she always came back to him. But no, Aartiënne had a different opinion: she was a strong independent woman and she had joined him to try and politely talk era, nothing more. And if the situation had taken a different  turn she would have taken her bag and left.  
  
So, while straightening the shoulder strap of her purse, the young woman got closer the door of the pub and barely pushed it, in order to slip inside the bar. There was suffused lighting, just a stage lighten up at the end of the room and a boy, standing up in front of a microphone, singing old jazz and blues songs.    
Aartiënne looked around in the semi-darkness, finally succeeding in finding the Portuguese man and quietly getting closer to him. 

**“Intimate atmosphere, secluded table … that’s so you, definitely.”**  she said standing up before him, before leaving her purse on the table and sitting down, under the amused look of Álvaro.  
**“Boa tarde, linda”** he just said while watching her sitting down, still keeping his position with his leg crossed and his elbow on the back of the chair. 

**“Well, you asked me to talk face-to-face and here I am. Let’s talk face-to-face. What’s up? EU stuff?”**

The dark-haired tilted his head before lifting his blue eyes on the ones of the Dutchwoman. 

**“Actually, I’d like to talk about the relationship between our two countries. Or better said, the relationship between the representatives of our two countries.”**  
  
Aartiënne tensed. She knew he would have ended up bringing out that topic, she knew she would have made it clear right away, but every time discussing of it was a sore point for her, especially discussing of it with the person concerned. Anyway she tried to look calm and disinterested and she relaxed her shoulders against the back of the chair, while the palms of her hands were resting on the wooden surface between them.  
  
**“Oh yeah? And what would you like to tell me about it? I mean, they got a polite relationship like the other representatives.”  
“Yes, but Portugal’s representative is still deeply in love with Netherlands’s representative, despite everything. And I know this is a mutual thing. What do we do?” **

The Dutchwoman left an eyebrow, perplexed.  
  
**“Who tells you so?”**  
  
A little puff left the lips of the Portuguese man, before he assumed a better position on his chair.  
**“C’mon, Aarti. Don’t we take a fool of ourselves.”**  
  
And that said, with a feline move he took the girl’s hands in his, holding them in a firm grip but from which she could easily slip away if she wanted to. The blonde girl remained silent, moving her gaze from their hands clasped together to the face of the Portuguese man, where in the meantime a faint encouraging smile had appeared.  
  
**“Á-Álvaro, I…”**  
  
But just when she was about to talk the man interrupted her, putting his fingertips on her lips.  
  
**“Shush. Come and dance. You must listen to this song.”**

And she almost had no time to say nothing, neither _“I can’t dance”_ nor _“I don’t want to”_ , that Álvaro put her on her feet and dragged her under the stage, holding her in his arms. The song was a slow dance, or at least it seemed so from the first notes.  
**“I know you understand Portuguese pretty well, but I prefer to translate it to you, to make you fully understand the lyrics”** he whispered in her ear, just a moment before the guy on the stage started singing. And at the same time with the text in Portuguese, Álvaro began to whisper to Aartiënne’s ear what he felt and what he had tried and failed several times to tell her .

  
_“_ _If one day someone asks about me_

_Say that I lived just to love you_

_Before you, I only existed_

_Tired and with nothing to offer_

_My dear, listen to my prayers_

_I ask you to come back, to love me again_

_I know we can’t love alone_

_Maybe little by little you can learn again_

_My dear, listen to my prayers_

_I ask you to come back, to love me again_

_I know we can’t love alone_

_Maybe little by little you can learn again_

_If your heart doesn’t wish to do so_

_To feel the passion, If it doesn’t want to suffer_

_Without making plans about what will happen_

_My heart can love for the both of us_ _”_  

 

Meanwhile Aartiënne had closed her eyes, enjoying those moments: the tender and melancholic melody played by the instruments and accompanied by the singer’s voice, together with the simultaneous translation the Portuguese man was whispering to her ear, Álvaro’s arms holding her hips firmly and his scent intoxicating her to the point she was almost feeling dizzy. Everything stopped with the final notes of the song, when the woman moved her head from the shoulder of the dark-haired man and turned to look at him, only to find him a few centimetres away from her face. The boy lifted his gaze from her lips to her eyes, and he was about to fill the distance between them and kiss her… but Aartiënne was faster than him and got away from his grip, rapidly getting back to their table just to pick her purse up and leaving that place. Her brother was right, damn right,  Álvaro had been, was and would always be her weakness, whether she liked it or not. The only thing to do was to completely burn bridges with him in order to stop suffering and finally be able to go on and make a life on her own. These were the thoughts who were crossing her mind in that moment, together with scolding towards her own behaviour.

Luckily she was able to get her purse and leave without being stopped by Álvaro, and he got out again in the fresh Lisboan night. A sigh left her lips, while she lifted and lowered her shoulders in a gesture of pure relief: at least she had slipped away from the grip of the snake which was about to wrap her in its coils, it was something. Now she only had to take a taxi, go to the airport and get home. She started walking briskly towards the taxi stop nearby, but she hadn’t noticed that in the meantime Álvaro had got out of the pub as well and had started following her a short distance. Only when the Dutchwoman walked past an alley he rushed to reach her and with a sudden movement he dragged her in the side road, keeping her stuck between the wall and his body.

  
**“What are you doing–?”** a shocked Aartiënne whispered, her hands up against the wall behind her and her eyes stuck in those of the Portuguese man.  
**“What I should have done before.”** the dark-haired man answered adding nothing more, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her in an extremely sweet way, almost fearing she could disappear before him.  
  
And if at first Aartiënne had been caught off guard, in the end she found herself closed-eyes, kissing him back with the same sweetness as his and wrapping his neck with her arms. The lyrics of that song were still lingering in the air:

  
  
_“_ _I know we can’t love alone_

_Maybe little by little you can learn again_ _”_


End file.
